A Divergent Dilemma - a Peter and Tris Fanfic
by b2bluewhale
Summary: Kill or be killed; those are his choices, but it's not that simple when feelings get in the way... Peter Hayes has a dilemma, and her name is Tris Prior.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note:_**

 ** _This is my first post! I own nothing, all characters/ideas belong to Veronica Roth. This is purely for fun :)_**

 ** _I've taken a bit of a creative license; I pulled stuff from the books, movies and a few of my own ideas to write the story._**

 ** _Hope you like it!_**

 ** _Tris P.O.V._**

Finally, we were nearing the end of the first stage of initiation. I was standing a few metres away from the battling mats, staring at them, taking slow, deep breaths. The next round of fights were about to start and I was feeling… not confident, but ready. I felt like this time I actually had a fighting chance to get out of that red zone. I was so close and I'd been working myself hard all week; the palms of my hands had become calloused and my knuckles raw from the punching bags. Plus I'd had Four giving me pointers here and there on my positions and playing to my strengths in a fight. The memory of his lingering hands on my waist, correcting my stance sent a fluttery feeling through my core.

"What are you staring at Stiff?" An abrasive voice made my thoughts come to a screeching halt. I turned to see Peter Hayes looking me up and down, tactlessly pausing for a moment to stare at my ass.

"I should ask you the same question," I said, turning away from him and into the direction of the mats again, my face beginning to flare from embarrassment.

"Touché," he replied with a brief chuckle, walking away from me and towards his friends whom had just entered the room.

The rest of the initiates came pouring in and we all gathered around the raised mat. Eric came traipsing in from the other side of the room walking deliberately, so you could hear the clear sound each of the rubber soles of his boots made when they hit the concrete.

"Ok, let's start," Eric called to us, still in motion.

"You ready?" asked Christina who'd seemed to have vaporized beside me out of thin air.

"Define 'ready,'" I said nervously with a breathy laugh. I took a sip of water from my metal canteen, preparing myself. I briskly walked over to the side of the room to set it down for later.

" _Tris!_ " The sound of my name coming from that voice sent volts of electricity up my spine. Still hunched over from dropping my canteen off, I slowly stood up and turned around to find Eric looking right at me. Even from the distance, I still sensed that uneasy feeling I got from his piercing gaze. I froze, not daring to make another move until he said so.

"Tris…" he repeated, "and…Peter. You're up." I tried to wrap my head around the situation. It didn't work.

"Come on, let's get this show on the road you two," Eric called gesturing for me to get a move on. I started to walk back to the mat and the circle of watching eyes surrounding it. Every barefooted step closer that I took, my heart sank deeper and deeper into my stomach. My newfound confidence had disappeared as quickly as it had been found. Peter was a beast. I was no match for his brute strength. I've seen the way he fights; it's ruthless and violent. He treats his opponents like a punching bag; no mercy, no sympathy. I'd never once had the inkling to think I'd need to prepare myself for a fight with Peter, being one of the weakest and all. Eric definitely had it in for me. But it was too late for analyzing the situation now; I just had to try and survive it.

A few metres away from the mat, a firm grip latched onto my arm halting my walk. I jumped a little, but calmed a bit when I saw Four's concerned face staring at mine. His brown eyes locked to my gaze immediately.

"Remember what I said about attack?" he says in a quiet tone, bringing his face close to mine. "First shot, right to the throat. And you watch him. He steps before he punches. Alright?"

I took a shaky breath in and gave him a deliberate nod. Four broke eye contact with me and looked down to where his hand was grasping my arm tightly. He loosened his grip to just a soft, almost tender touch and then released me.

Peter was standing on the mat, eagerly waiting for me to step up on the platform. He watched every move I made while he flexed his arms deliberately and started to pump himself up – obviously his play at intimidation. The sad thing was that it was working.

We got into our fight stances and I moved to the furthest corner of the mat, trying to give myself as much distance as possible from the pure hunk of mass on the opposite side. The sculpted outlines of Peter's muscles were visible underneath his black training shirt and the light danced off his toned biceps. The fluorescent bulbs from above highlighted the panels on his face and cast shadows across his cheekbones. If it weren't for his repulsing personality I might've even thought him attractive. He licked his rosy full lips and smiled devilishly at me with an eager glint in eyes. It was reminiscent of a lion scouting out its prey, hungry for lunch. I swallowed hard at the sight of him, hurting my throat trying to push down the nervous bile.

"I can't wait to get my hands on you Stiff," Peter taunted from the other side of the mat, starting to close the distance between us. This made my stomach churn. I could feel another particular pair of watching eyes on my back: Four. I could see his attentive expression out of the corner of my eye.

And that's when Peter made his move. He lunged forward to try and tackle me but I luckily jumped out of the way and kneed him in the side of his stomach. He hunched over in pain for a moment; I had definitely caught him off guard but he recovered quickly. I did what Four said and kept an eye on his feet. Sure enough he stepped forward and I lunged out of the trajectory of his punch, taking the opportunity to sock him right in the throat. Peter winced in pain, winded from my punch. I instinctively glanced over to where Four was standing and he gave me a subtle nod. I turned back only to have been met with a fist to my face. I recoiled and held my throbbing head in one hand. Even though it was painful, I felt Peter was holding back. He's normally more ruthless at the start.

"Are you gonna cry already Stiff?" he jeered at me. My blood boiled at his comment. I was not weak. Why should he go easy on me? I was just as much dauntless as he was.

"You asshole," I muttered under my breath. My instincts took over and my anger thwarted my strategy, desperate for my fist to make contact with his body anywhere I could. But I wasn't vigilant enough because he managed to grab my arm in his grasp and pull me roughly towards him. He stared at me with his dark blue eyes and I became fixated on his memorizing gaze for a split second. But the trance was lifted when he kneed me in the gut, making me keel over in pain. My organs felt jostled around, like they had gotten intertwined in ways that shouldn't have been possible.

"Stop playing with each other," Eric murmured from the edge of the mat.

Another punch to the face. I stumbled around like a fool trying to right myself. I felt impact again, this time right to my chest. Still reeling from the knee to my stomach, Peter saw his chance; he lunged forward and scooped me up off my feet like a groom picking up his bride and threw me down on the mat -hard. There was something sadistic about that.

I lay weak on the ground, my head throbbing from the hard impact and body aching; I felt like a tenderized piece of meat. Another kick to the gut from Peter's heel. I could feel blood starting to trickle out of my nose. Peter looked down at my limp body, his expression softened, not so harsh. I thought I even saw a flicker of guilt wash over his face. He looked up and across the mat to someone, nodded, and the last thing I remember was his foot crashing down on my face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! The story will continue to switch POV's back and forth each chapter just FYI :)**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Peter P.O.V**

I wasn't sure how late it was exactly but all of the lights in the pit had dimmed to a gentle glow and only one or two people lingered around. I threw my empty white pill bottle up into the air and caught it, rolling it around in my palms. I was having trouble sleeping lately. Not that I slept much beforehand; back home I only got about six hours on a good night. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I couldn't let it affect my performance. So, sleeping pills it was.

These ones in particular were just barely legal but I had a friend who worked at the medical centre who topped me up when I needed. I walked into the dark center to get my refill. The office looked deserted.

 _Shit._

I held my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes, heavy from my lack of sleep and knowing that wasn't going to change that night. And then I saw a faint light beside me. It was coming from the other side of the glass window to my right that looked into the infirmary. An IV and wires hooked up to a small screen measuring a pulse was creating a blue glow over the patient it was attached to. They were lying in a cot, their back turned to me but I had a nagging suspicion of who it might be.

I reached for the steel handle to the empty infirmary finding it unlocked and pulled it open it quietly. I walked slowly towards the small body lying on the bed and I paused at its foot. Sure enough I recognized the straw coloured hair and soft features sleeping… well, somewhat peacefully. It was hard to imagine her having a peaceful night looking at the bruises all over her body. I felt a twinge of guilt in my stomach. She looked like a watercolour. I had painted her black and blue, and with each shade you could see the strokes that shadowed her pale body. It was like a beautiful yet sadistic masterpiece. I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach the longer I looked at her. I had to sit on the edge of her bed to compose myself.

 _"What is wrong with you?"_ I asked myself. _"Pull yourself together."_

It wasn't like I'd never put people in that hospital before, but this time it was different. It felt wrong. I was trying to go easy on her too, but Eric was on my back. I couldn't betray his trust; not after I'd worked this hard to get on his side. There was just too much to lose. I didn't have a choice.

"Mmmh."

Tris' moaning startled me and I jumped from the bed. I looked down at her tired face. I had the impulse to reach out and touch her but my hand recoiled as I focused on another bruise left by yours truly. And with that I quickly left the hospital and walked back to the initiate's dorm with no sleeping pills and a long night ahead of me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for reading! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story There are more chapters to come, please fave/comment if you like my work! Feedback is always appreciated :)**

 **Tris P.O.V**

Two days after my encounter with Peter, I was back in the initiate's dorm. It was morning and most everyone had already filed down to the dining hall for breakfast. Every joint in my body ached when I moved around trying to get dressed, but more importantly, I could function without toppling over. My bruises had started to heal but had turned a nasty shade of yellow under my pale skin that made me want to hurl whenever I looked at them. Every time, I just remembered Peter's fists obliterating every inch of my body. I couldn't sleep either. Whenever I shut my eyes, his dark menacing ones opened and glared at me.

"Do you need any help Tris?"

Al had approached me, extending his hand to me. I was sitting on my cot tying my black boots with still-aching fingers, sore from throwing ill-timed punches at Peter's body.

"Sure… yah, actually. Thanks," I took Al's hand and he helped pull me to my feet. I groaned slightly as my body ached its way into a standing position.

"Are you ok Tris?" he asked, a look of concern spreading across his face.

"I'll be fine-,"

"Are you sure? Because you know… if you need anyth-,"

"Al. I'm ok," I reassured him with a feeble attempt at a grin.

"Of course, yeah…" he nodded, not looking totally convinced of my wellbeing.

Al was always so nice to me. I saw how he'd look at me though; It was painfully obvious he was in it for more than just friendship. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, even though I hadn't led him on or anything. Or maybe I had? I wasn't very knowledgeable in that department thanks to the Abnegation lifestyle. I halted my thoughts before I could make myself any more stressed and proceeded to walk down to breakfast with Al beside me.

I was halfway through my oatmeal when Max announced War Commemoration day had fallen upon us again that year; this meant we had the day to ourselves. I was shocked at how time flew. Just last year I was at home with my parents and Caleb enjoying a peaceful day away from the busy Abnegation lifestyle. I would never have guessed a year from now that this is where I'd be eating my breakfast.

"So what are we doing today Tris?" Christina muttered while chowing down on a piece of toast. She was sitting across from me and nudged Will in the arm who was seated beside her. "Will and I were thinking of getting tattoos," she said with a grin on her face.

"Come with us, it'll be fun," Will chimed in.

"Well, I thought I would go to the training center actually," I said while shoving another hot spoon of oatmeal into my mouth. Christina looked up from her plate of toast crusts and gave me a skeptical look and Will stared at me bug-eyed.

"What?" I said.

"Have you even seen yourself?" Christina asked concernedly. "I mean honestly, you look like shit Tris," she gestured to the healing yellow bruise on my chest.

"You don't have to rub it in you know…but I'm fine, I promise," I told her and Will reassuringly. They were giving me the same doubtful look that Al had given me earlier. "Plus I missed a whole day of training and I need to catch up if I want to make it to the next stage."

"Tris, I don't think you should-,"

"I'm not going to be factionless, ok?" I said more vehemently than I had intended to.

"She's right you know," a gruff voice spoke behind me that made my breathing hitch.

"The Stiff's going to need to toughen up if she wants to stick around." I turned my head to the side and saw Peter staring down at me intently. His eyes grazed over my bare arms and chest to where the yellow bruise was.

"I mean, we can't have _this_ happen again," he spoke as a hand reached out to gently slide a strap of my tank top off my shoulder, revealing the whole ugly bruise he'd produced. I felt heat radiating to my cheeks and I froze as an icy feeling radiated up my spine. I didn't know if it was out of embarrassment or how foreign it felt to have Peter's hands on my bare skin, not pulverizing me but gently flitting across my shoulder. His hand lingered on my upper arm, his thumb brushing across my skin as I finally had a clue to jerk away from him.

"Don't touch her you pig," Christina said heatedly, standing up from the bench quickly. Will held onto Christina's arm, restraining her from leaping across the table.

"So, you _do_ want her to be factionless?" Peter continued, "Because that's exactly what's going to happen to her if she slacks off."

"Are you joking?" Christina spat, "Would you _look_ what you did to her? She's weak!"

"I'm not weak," I muttered dishonestly in defense of myself.

"You are Tris, and don't listen to him he's just trying to get in your head," she ordered me. I didn't appreciate her degrading comments; she didn't know what I was capable of.

"All I _did, Christina,_ was give her some proper motivation," Peter huffed, "I thought she needed it."

"You're sick Peter, you know that?" Christina said, leaning even further towards him from across the table, "I swear to god if you _ever_ so much as touch a hair on her head, I'm going to kill you."

Peter didn't look the slightest bit phased from Christina's threats. "You know what Tris?" he said turning his head to me, "Listen to your friends; take the day off. It'll make life a _whole_ lot easier for me once you're out in the streets," he sneered.

I didn't know exactly what Peter meant by that; I know he hated me but he also knew I wasn't a threat. He could pick me off in a second if he really wanted to. My chest tightened at the thought of this.

"What's your angle here Peter?" Will said, standing up still with a firm grip on Christina's arm.

"What?" Peter smirked, "Can't I just make conversation?"

"Would you just leave already?" I murmured quietly so only he would hear.

"What, am I bothering you Tris? Are you scared?" he jeered, "It's because you know it's true. You're on your way out of here Prior."

"Shut up you narcissistic piece of shit," Christina called from the other side of the table, looking ready to pounce.

"Screw you Peter." I said a bit louder, staring straight out in front of me not daring to look him in the eye.

"I bet you'd like that," he leaned down behind me and spoke quietly so I could feel his warm breath tickling my ear.

That was it. I turned my head to the side so that I was millimetres from Peter's face and then elbowed him square in the groin.

" _Bitch,"_ Peter exclaimed hoarsely, keeling over in pain behind me. A tiny smirk flitted across my lips. It felt good to make him hurt; after what he did to me.

"Serves you right asshole," Christina spat at him, looking at me in awe – obviously surprised at my sudden burst of energy. "Come on Tris, we're leaving," she said as she made her way to my side of the table with Will still attached to her arm.

Christina and Will speedily dragged me out of the dining hall away from Peter and his approaching comrades, but as I looked back out into the crowd of bodies in the dining hall, I found Peter's eyes fixed on me right until I left the room.

Christina and Will left me in the dorm while they traipsed off to The Pit; I insisted they leave me there because told them I was feeling tired. I wasn't really; my bruises were aching but I really just wanted to be alone. Not letting Peter get into my head was crucial to maintain my morale, but this time I couldn't help but think he was right. I knew there was no way to make it further if I didn't push myself and he knew it too. I laid on my cot, staring at the beige ceiling, thinking that I quite possibly could be staring up at the black unforgiving sky of Dauntless by the end of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone, so this chapter was really crucial plot-wise for the story so I hope I did it justice! Also this is my first chapter writing more in-depth in Peter's perspective which was super interesting.**

 **Also September is a busy month for me (school sucks, am I right?) but I'll try my best to update regularly.**

 **Anyway, thank you so much for reading and for the feedback so far; it means a lot!**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **Peter's POV**

I watched Tris being dragged out of the dining hall by Christina and Will when I half-noticed a firm grip clasp on my shoulder. Her petite figure swaying from side to side fascinated me. She turned her head around once more and found my face in the crowd. He large brown eyes locked gazes with me and I took in the delicate features of her face. There was something so virginal and pure about Tris; her body this untainted sanctuary.

"Could you be any less discreet Peter?" The body attached to the hand on my shoulder murmured to me. I turned around to see Eric's face fashioning into his seemingly permanent hard expression. His features seemed to be carved out of stone; very statuesque and composed.

"Your antics are unnecessary," he cautioned.

"I thought this is what you wanted," I replied, confused. "You know, to break her down."

Eric directed me away from the crowd, his hand still on my shoulder, to a corner of the dining hall.

"Yes, but you don't have to be so obvious," he said to me in a begrudging tone. "Drawing unnecessary attention to yourself won't get you anywhere now. And letting her pull that kind of bullshit down here; _unacceptable_ ," he warned, raising a finger at my face. My chest tightened and I swallowed hard. I had a suspicion Eric wouldn't be too impressed with her elbowing me in the groin.

"Let me ask you something Peter," he continued, his eyes narrowing, "Do you remember why I came to you with this deal?" he asked me. He looked straight at me, his gaze not wavering. I took a sharp breath and broke eye contact with him; his staring made me unbearably uneasy.

I came to you," he continued when I didn't answer "because _I_ thought, you were the _one_ person she'd never have the courage to stand up to. The fact that she had the audacity to pull something like that-in front of _everyone-_ makes me think otherwise Peter," he said, unimpressed.

"I'm trying to intimidate her, but she's…determined," I defended, "She won't break that easily." What Eric was asking was a tall order. Breaking Tris was about as easy as breaking a straw; no matter how much you tried to bend and twist her, she'd still stay in one piece.

"Then try _harder_ ," Eric said, raising his voice slightly. He looked around discreetly to see if anyone was eavesdropping and then looked me dead in the eyes. "You need to make a more sizeable impact on her Peter."

"I don't know if you've seen her lately, Eric, but those bruises looked pretty fucking sizeable to me."

He looked at me, deadpanned, seeming unconvinced.

"What do you want me to do then, huh? Throw her over the chasm?"

Eric was silent for a moment, seeming to be pondering what I had just said.

"No…I need her alive until I can prove what she is." The way he said it, like he'd save that idea for later made me uneasy.

"She may not even be though," I responded; I was lying to myself though. There was something off about Tris…she was different; strong-minded…Eric's theory would've certainly explained it.

"She _is_ Divergent _,"_ Eric retorted with certainty. "And that's why you're crucial Peter. You need to wear her down until she's at her weakest; until she's _nothing,_ so I can get her to admit it." Eric's fists were clenching at his sides; the first trace of uninhibited emotion I'd seen from him that day. "I don't care what you have to do to her, just do it discreetly. Do you understand?"

I didn't like what I was hearing. What I had agreed to was sounding less like a trade-off and more like a suicide mission every time Eric talked about it; I was going to screw myself if I got found out. Taunting was one thing, but brutality was another. And I didn't really want to hurt Tris again. It just _felt_ wrong, when I thought about her lying in the hospital bed; what had she done to deserve what Eric had coming for her? But then again, I needed Eric's help desperately; there was no way I'd get through the rest of training without him.

"Yeah, but I can't guarantee anything, she's…unpredictable," I said, "And I thought you just wanted me to get in her head? I can't keep beating her up for you all the time, Four or someone's going to get suspicious and I'll be fucked." I looked at him warily, trying to decode what he was thinking; but all I could see was the stony mask.

"I want an incentive," I told him with whatever confidence I could muster inside me.

"Incentive?" Eric repeated, exasperated. "Isn't risking my ass to help you with simulations incentive enough?" he spat, his eyes widening.

"I need to I know I'm going to benefit, weather I screw myself in the end or not. You're making me do this without any type of strategy…I mean…physically torturing her? I'm risking everything here."

Eric looked at me, eyebrows raised. He stared at me closely for a moment, mulling my proposal over in his mind. My heart was racing, hoping that my request was reasonable enough for him to understand.

"I'll take care of Four," he said suddenly, his expression tempering the slightest bit to reveal that he knew I had a point. "God knows if they're screwing around or something, he'd be the first one to worry about her," he added with distaste. My jaw clenched tightly at the thought of that; I _had_ noticed they'd been sharing an awful lot of little moments together during training, but I knew Tris wouldn't though… she was a Stiff after all. I shook that thought out of my head; why would I even care if they were?

"And I'll get you your sleeping pills," Eric continued, the hard mask refashioning on his face, "Give me the day" he said begrudgingly.

"Wait, how did you know-"

"Oh give me a break, it's not that hard to figure out," he said, irritated. "You've been acting like even more of a prick lately and that bottle hasn't been full in days."

"Bottle…you…knew about that? And about Sam not working in the medical centre anymore?" I asked hesitantly. That was one of my only secrets left, thanks to being put in those goddamn dorms. I really didn't have an ounce of privacy anymore did I…?

"I know _everything Peter_ ," he said sternly, "Oh, and in the future, don't hide shit under your bed; what are you, 12?" My jaw clenched with irritation, but he was right. "And since I'm doing this for you today, you're going to do something for me," he continued, a menacing look appearing on his face."

"What?"

"I want you to make things right Peter."

"I…don't understand what-"

"Go find the Stiff. I want you to reverse that little fuck-up today and make her regret she ever crossed you. Make her _afraid_ Peter. I want it so that when you're done, she won't be able to even look you in the eye. I don't care what means you have to use; just do it."

And with that, Eric turned on his heel and started to walk out of the hall.

"Wait," I called, "How will I find her?"

Eric stopped his stride and turned around to look at me, unimpressed.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said. And with that, he whipped around and rounded the corner out of the hall.

I was left standing in the dining hall, letting our conversation sink in. Even though I'd just eaten a massive breakfast, there was an undeniable hollow feeling in my gut. I needed Eric's help; _that_ was indisputable.

 _I'll be factionless if I don't do this._

I told myself that over and over as I made my way back to my seat next to Drew and Molly.

I stared intently down at the wooden table in front of me, directing my mind away from the table chatter and focusing my mind on the task at hand: Tris. God, that was a stupid question, of course I knew where she'd be; I just didn't want to admit it. The more I could prolong a visit to the training centre the better. Jesus, why couldn't I just get up and do this?

 _She's just another initiate Peter._

She wasn't though. I knew that she was different because Tris Prior was the only person I'd ever felt remorse for at Dauntless. I didn't know what that meant, but all I did know was that my ass was on the line and while I was sitting at that table working up the nerve to find her, I knew remorse was going to get me nowhere that day.


End file.
